


Cat Thief

by Nanyoky



Series: Quickbird Revolution [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Cutesy, First Meetings, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Meet-Cute, Orphans, Pets, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Veterans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:32:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanyoky/pseuds/Nanyoky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finds a missing cat. Pietro's not so good with firework season. Wanda probably let the cat out on purpose and Natasha just wants an excuse to eat ice cream and drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cat Thief

**Author's Note:**

> I really want Falcon/Quicksilver to be a ship so I'm on a one-woman mission to make it a thing. Thus the series of oneshots and short chapter fic of various typical ship prompts that sounded very Sam and Pietro to me.  
> Also I'm convinced Pietro is not just a cat person but a Kerli Koiv fan.  
> And not going to lie, I actually have a handful of stories for this ship just sitting on my computer. I could post them sooner or I could work on them more it really depends on the response I get and if there's anyone out there that might ship this. So let me know if you're here for it!

Sam turned off his alarm and forced himself to sit up. It was the kind of rainy day where sane people were meant to stay inside with books and Netflix and their favorite warm beverage. But not Sam Wilson. Sam Wilson had to be up at six am to take a run before his nine o'clock group session. Because he was probably a masochist, trying to stay in shape when he really didn't have to anymore. He changed from his sleeping sweats into his running sweats and started a pot of coffee.

He paused while putting bread into the toaster. He felt like he was being watched. Sam ran through the same things he would tell the group members about this sort of thing.

 _"Civilian life is a major change. It's hard to return to safety. We want it to be easy- we feel like it_ should _be easy. It's not. Your mind and body are so used to danger, they are not going to let go of high-alert mode just because you're sleepin on a mattress again."_

It wasn't helping. Half the time he doubted it helped anyone in group either. Sam allowed himself a quick assessment of the apartment's entrances and exits. When he got to the window to the fire escape, he blinked.

He _was_ being watched. By a cat. A filthy, skinny, blue-eyed cat on the fire escape. Sam met its big round eyes and the thing meowed. It stretched up, reaching its paws to the latch on the window.

"This ain't your house."

Sam shook his head after a minute and turned back to his breakfast, carrying mug and plate to the table. The cat continued to try for the window latch, meowing and staring at him in turns.

"I'm telling you, you got the wrong window."

The cat narrowed its eyes and meowed again, as though it had understood and quite disagreed. Sam frowned at it.

"Where do you come from?"

The cat's tail twitched. With a hefty sigh, Sam got to his feet and opened the window. It _was_ raining after all. The cat slipped inside and picked its way across the dirty dishes in his sink, meowing loudly again.

"Yeah, yeah. You're welcome."

He peeled the crust off his remaining piece of toast and held it out. The cat sniffed it, then started to gnaw on it. He ended up feeding it the whole piece of bread in strips.

"Hungry thing, ain't you? You been away from home awhile." When it had finished, he checked the collar. It was less a collar and more of what looked like an old watch band with a laminated piece of paper dangling from a wire at the cat's throat.

"Kerli. That your name, girl?"

She meowed again and pushed her head against his hand. There was a number on the collar as well. Sam pulled out his phone and dialed the number, leaning against the counter and letting the cat rub against him as she stalked back and forth across the laminate surface. The phone rang and then clicked to voicemail. A woman's voice spoke rapidly in a language Sam did not recognize.

 _"_ _Ez a telefon a Wanda és Pietro Maximoff . Sajnáljuk, hogy nem tudunk a telefonhoz jönni most. Kérem, hagyjon üzenetet , vagy hívjon bennünket vissza később. Köszönöm."_ Then, in heavily accented English, "We are sorry. Leave message or call later."

Sam frowned, but waited for the click.

"Hi. My name's Sam Wilson. I found your cat. Call or text me back at this number and I'll meet you wherever to bring her to you. She's fine." He felt he should probably say that. "I fed her some toast. So... call me back."

When he hung up, "Kerli" meowed again.

"Yeah, I know. Hope she'll call back soon. I don't know what kind of people-food you can eat."

She gnawed affectionately on his fingertip. Sam looked at the clock and groaned. The whole process had set him off his routine. The cat had cut his run time in half.

"I should clean you up too, shouldn't I?"

She purred and latched her claws into the shoulder of his t-shirt. Sam swallowed a yelp as she climbed up onto his shoulders, her claws digging just a little into his skin. His entire upper body tense, he walked to the bathroom and carefully got on his knees to start filling the bath. Kerli meowed and leaned forward precariously to reach down and bat a paw at the water.

"Yeah, you're not gunna like it so much in a minute, are you?"

She meowed. Bracing himself, Sam reached back and gently lifted the creature from his shoulder and into the water. To his great surprise, she remained calm and playful. Sam found himself continuing to talk to her, even laughing as she purred while he washed her.

"You know, most cats don't like water, right? At least that's what people say. But you're just tired of being dirty, huh? Your owner's gunna be so happy to get you back all cleaned up, I'll bet. Wonder how long you've been away from home."

Once she was clean, it was clear she was all white, except a line of three bluish grey dots down her forehead.

"There you are, pretty girl."

She even let him dry her off. By the time he was finished, it was nearly time to go to his meeting. He hastily put some newspapers down on the floor and closed the bathroom door with a quick "I'll be back."

~

Sam forgot about the cat during his meeting. It had been a hard week, as people had started their Fourth of July celebrations early, meaning every combat vet in the city hadn't slept more than a few hours at a time.

He was at the podium when his phone buzzed next to his hand.

"And we need to realize that a relapse does not-"

He glanced down to see a text from an "unknown" number.

_You are cat thief, Sam Wilson?_

He blinked, then tried to find the thread of what he was saying once more.

"Uh- we- does not mean that- that we have failed. We all have bad days. We even screw up some days. We snap at people we care about, we forget important meetings. I just checked my phone at work." He smiled at the obliging laughter. "Your bad days do not define you. Me checking my phone does not mean I don't care about you and about being here. And just because you have a rough time when fireworks start going off doesn't mean you aren't doing better every day."

"Nice save, Wilson." Steve called from the third row.

Everyone laughed and was in better spirits as they left than when they came. Sam said his goodbyes to the group and pulled out his phone to respond.

_Not a thief. Your cat showed up outside my window. She's fine. Do you want me to meet you somewhere? I'm at work right now._

He didn't have to wait long for the response.

_Where are you? Where is your home? I am in Gravesend._

_Flatbush. I'm on my way home from work in Manhattan._

_I will meet you in Brooklyn. Send address._

Sam sent his apartment address as he got on the subway. No one was waiting outside when he arrived at the apartment, but the moment he closed his door behind him, the buzzer sounded.

"I am here for my cat."

It was a man's voice, but it had the same vaguely Uralic accent as the woman on the voicemail. Sam hit the door button.

"Come on up."

In what felt like not nearly enough time for someone to climb the stairs, there was a hurried knock.

"I'm comin- hang on."

When he opened the door, the man in the hall was still panting from his climb up the stairs. He must have run up all fifteen flights. Sam would have been impressed if he wasn't so taken aback.

"Hello- where's my cat?"

Sam blinked at him. The young man would not have looked out of place shooting up in some alley in Queens. There were dark circles under his eyes and he looked like he hadn't shaved in days. He was almost unnaturally pale and wearing layers of worn athletic gear. But perhaps most noticeable was his hair- bleached just as white as the cat and showing half an inch of dark roots. He looked more than a little crazed, hands fidgeting and eyes darting. Maybe he _was_ an addict.

"Uh- in my bathroom." Sam replied slowly, not sure what he'd gotten himself into.

He stepped back to let the stranger inside and led the way to the closed door to his toilet. The cat meowed loudly as the door opened and shot directly at the stranger.

" _Kerli- édes kicsikém_!"

Sam smiled as the man's face brightened at the sight of the animal bounding toward him. Kerli climbed up his pant leg before he could pick her up. She made her way to his shoulders and curled around the back of his neck. He laughed as the cat nuzzled his ear and the change in demeanor made him look a little less worse for wear. Sam relaxed somewhat. Maybe not an addict after all.

"You are thin, _Drágám._ But I will buy you the good food, I promise," the stranger muttered as the cat wound its way all over his upper body and slid into the half unzipped front of his sweatshirt. The cat hooked her claws into his shirt and stuck her head up just over the zipper.

The stranger kept smiling down at his pet, but glanced up, seemingly remembering Sam was there.

"I'm sorry. I- Thank you. For finding her. And-" he frowned and tucked his chin in to sniff at the cat's head. "Did you wash her?"

"Uh- yeah. She was kinda a mess."

"I am very sorry. She must have scratched you."

Sam shrugged and rolled up his sleeves to show him his forearms.

"No. I think she was just happy to be inside where it's nice and warm."

"Really!" The stranger raised his eyebrows. "She doesn't like water. No cats do, I think."

"That's what I told her, but she was fine with it."

The stranger smiled as he scratched the top of the cat's head. "She must like you. She scratches and bites me when I try to clean her. And my sister. Not even when she does anything to her first. Wanda and Kerli do not get along. I think she let her out on purpose last week."

"She's been missing for a week?" Sam shouldn't be so surprised, but he'd gotten a little attached to the animal and didn't like the thought of her hungry for so long.

The stranger nodded, then looked up again, as if realizing he had forgotten something.

"I'm sorry- I forget- I'm Pietro. Pietro Maximoff."

He awkwardly stuck out his left hand, as his right was busy being nibbled by the cat in his hoodie. Sam shook it.

"Sam Wilson."

"Yes," Pietro said, and he was actually flushing. "I am sorry I call you cat thief."

Sam laughed and shook his head. "I didn't take offense. No worries."

"I have not been sleeping well and it maybe makes me... irritable."

"You were worried about your pet. Hard to sleep when you're worried."

Pietro didn't say anything to this. He pressed his lips together and shifted from one foot to the other. Without the smile, he looked tired and worn again. Still less fidgety though, with Kerli back in his possession.

"I- I can't pay you reward. We- we spend all our money, coming to this country. We have only been here two months."

"Hey, don't worry about it, man." Sam brushed off his words and jerked a thumb at the kitchen. "You hungry?"

Pietro shook his head vigorously, some of the agitation coming back into his body language. "No! I already owe you-"

"Come on- you don't owe me. What do you want? I got sandwiches, some leftover wings, beer-"

But Pietro was still shaking his head. Sam frowned and tried not to take offence. He'd grown up in the city, but there was too much southern upbringing in him from his mother to let him feel good about someone walking out his door hungry.

"I- I should go. Thank you. For finding my cat. Someday when I find a job, I will buy you drink. But I have to- to go. It's almost dark and-" he cut himself off as though he said something he shouldn't have. "And- and thank you."

He started for the door, but there was a crack somewhere outside and he froze. Sam watched him curiously as he winced at the boom of the firework. Pieces started to click together in his brain as he watched the muscles in Pietro's jaw work to unclench.

"It's the fireworks, right?" Pietro wasn't looking at him, so Sam didn't try to force eye contact. He knew better than to try to force people out of their comfort zones too soon. People who got pushed too hard usually didn't return to the veterans group. "That's the reason you haven't been sleeping. But you don't stand like a soldier. Where'd you say you were from?"

"Sokovia."

Sam had thought so. He continued cautiously. "You grew up there. During occupation. And the bombings."

Pietro looked like he was concentrating very hard on the difficult task of scratching Kerli's chin. He nodded.

"I'm sorry."

Pietro shrugged and still didn't look up. "I loved my home. But we were not safe there. We had no family left. Our parents died in air raid when we were ten years old. Our friends were starving and freezing to death around us. No jobs that lasted longer than a week. Nowhere to sleep but back doorways- out of the snow. We had no future there."

Sam nodded. He let the silence linger, trying to decide how much he could push their odd acquaintance. He'd already gotten more than he expected from a first conversation. But it seemed once Pietro started speaking, he didn't stop until he had nothing else to tell.

"Hey, uh- I know you don't know me, but I run this group down at the Veteran's Affairs Center..."

Pietro looked up at last and frowned, but didn't say anything.

"It's for soldiers, really, but anyone's welcome."

"You are... head doctor?" he ask skeptically.

Sam laughed, trying to steer the tone of their conversation in a less dour direction.

"No- man, nothing like that. It's just a bunch of people who know what each other are going through, sitting down and having a conversation." He dug his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "If you and your sister wanted to check it out, we meet weekdays at nine in the morning and five in the evening."

Pietro still looked suspicious, but after a moment, he smiled.

"Thank you. I'll mention to Wanda."

He made toward the door again.

"You need cab fare?"

He wasn't trying to keep him there, not really. Natasha said he had a pathological need to take care of people. Pietro was grinning at him, almost to the door now.

"You're trying to get me to owe you even more. I'm starting to think you must want something from me."

"I keep telling you, you don't owe me. But the city can be dangerous at night." He gestured to the cat in Pietro's hoodie. "Wanna be sure you get that little lady home safe. Got kinda fond of her. Hate for her to get lost again."

Pietro offered him a surprisingly cocky smirk for someone with a fluffy white cat nuzzling his sternum.

"I live fifteen years on Sokovia streets. New York criminals are children."

Sam couldn't help but laugh at the smugness in this. The fierce pride of growing up hard in the city was a global constant.

"Alright, tough guy, just get home safe, alright? Have a good night."

"You too-" he stopped, halfway out the door. "Oh- and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't get your hopes up about me bringing my sister to your soldier group," he winked. "I am the good looking twin."

~

Sam definitely didn't watch the door for the next week during group. An hour after Pietro had left his apartment, he received a picture text of Kerli- asleep in a pile of blankets with empty cat food cans stacked up next to her. Since Pietro had texted first, it didn't feel too presumptuous to add him to his contacts and send him the VA address. He hadn't gotten any new texts since, but he tried not to think about it.

But he was definitely thinking about it. Maybe if other people would text him, it wouldn't be so bad. But his name remained at the top of his messages.

_Hey Nat, what're you up to?_

_What happened?_

_Nothing. I just want to check up with you._

_Sure. So who dumped you? Are we doing shots or wine? I'll pick up both and some ice cream on the way over._

_Forget it._

_Oh no. You're pining. Who is it? Someone from group? I know it's someone from group. you don't know anyone else. You should get out more. Later. Tonight we drink._

_Goodbye, Natasha._

_Is it Steve?_

It didn't help to have Natasha's name at the top. Or Steve's. Or Maria's. Or his mother's. Sam had all but given up by Friday. He still kept his phone with him on the podium. He was halfway through leading the discussion away from everyone's low point of the week when the door clicked open in the back of the hall.

Sam stumbled over his words for just a moment, but managed to smile at Pietro as he sat down gingerly in the back of the room, as though afraid he was about to be chased out.

"So who's got something new happening in their life? What are we trying to focus on?"

It felt like it took forever for the rest of the group to drain out of the hall. He sent Steve and Maria on their way with a promise to meet them for drinks within the week.

"Look who's here," he grinned and held out a hand to Pietro, who had managed to avoid contact with the exiting veterans. "Good to see you."

Pietro shook his hand and waved his opposite arm vaguely. "I was late. I tried to get Wanda to come with, but she-" he shook his head in a way that made it clear this was a story he definitely didn't want to get into just now.

"I understand."

"She does not like you," he was grinning now. "She would not have come anyway, but she is very angry with you for finding Kerli."

"Is she? Tell her I'm sorry."

"I won't."

There was a stilted pause. Sam gathered the pamphlets at the table pushed up against the wall. It was a stupid thing to do. He'd have to put them out again before Monday's meeting. But he wanted to be doing something with his hands.

When they spoke again, it was at the same time.

"I would have-"

"I'm glad you-"

"Sorry-" Pietro grinned and shifted from one foot to the other. "I- I was just going to say, I would have come sooner, but I- I got job."

"Congrats!" Sam touched his shoulder and it occurred to him that he should not be so conscious of such an innocent gesture. "Glad to hear things are lookin up."

"Thank you."

"Where you working?"

"It's nothing- just- currier service. The pay is shit and I'm sure I'll be hit by many cars."

Sam laughed. "Hope not."

Pietro grinned at him like saying "I hope you don't get hit by a car" was the most telling thing Sam could have possibly said out loud. Which only made Sam feel like it was far too telling a thing to say on the second meeting.

"Really?"

"I mean- someone's gotta feed Kerli every now and then."

Pietro let out a huff of a laugh and fidgeted with the zipper on his jacket. With a very stupid flip of the stomach, Sam realized he was just about as nervous as he was the first time they spoke.

"Also," Sam should not be fighting so hard to keep his voice level. "Now that you've got a job, you can afford to buy me that drink and tell me all about it."

Pietro let out a laugh that had more than a little bit of a relieved sigh mixed into it. "Oh thank God. I am very bad at this. Thank you."

Sam laughed and jerked his head toward the door. "Come on. I know a good place.


End file.
